Another Generation
by Windinthereeds
Summary: The children of the upper classes do not always have an easy path
1. Chapter 1

Two Mothers

"--all fires die out at last." The woman who was Jane Rochester for almost twenty years leaned over the railing of the ship. This is where she spent the most of the days on her journey from Southampton to Jamaica--leaning on the railing of the ship and staring into the Atlantic ocean. The greenish deep water swirled and hypnotized her. Just lean a little more and...but that was a crime against God. And, Jane would obey His laws, no matter what.

For now Jane Rochester was no more but was reborn as The Mrs. Reverend St. John Rivers, wife to the man who was going to take over the mission church in Spanish Town, Jamaica. St. John had been successful in India. On the subcontinent, schools had been founded, hospitals maintained and churches overflowed with his converts. Great and good works were the result of St. John's tireless activities and iron will.

Fifteen years after Reverend Rivers arrived in Delhi, the malarial fevers that had been latent finally made the formidable St. John Rivers take to his bed. He was very ill, so very ill that in his deliriums he saw himself as Pilgrim walking to the Celestial City. With his last strength, St. John penned long letters to his sisters Diana and Mary--and to his cousin Jane Rochester. The three women grieved and prepared for the end.

But, St. John did not die. The mission counsel, in their deep concern, shipped him back to England. Haggard, graying with his alabaster complexion now a curious yellow under the tanned skin, St. John arrived in his old home in the north of England.

For, it was not St. John who perished but the hated Edward Rochester, husband of his cousin Jane. When St. John arrived at his old home of Moor House, Jane was also there, taking refuge with her cousins. She was sitting in the parlor wearing her black widow weeds, staring at the wall, her face a mask of grief and confusion under a veil. St. John's sister Mary would whisper to him that Jane rarely took food, never talked and simply sat, catatonic. Mary also whispered that the fatal collapse happened when Edward received the letter telling them that their older son James had ruined himself and was being sent down from Cambridge in disgrace.

St. John, in the role of the male relative, swooped into Thornfield to salvage something for his cousin Jane. It was while St. John was going through the finances and the contents of the safe in the study when he discovered that Edward had been hiding the true state of Thornfield from Jane.

When Edward Rochester was made Baron Rochester and then was sitting in parliament, he purchased a London house. It was necessary to maintain the Town residence. In spite of the the declining revenues, Edward returned to his careless ways with money and the London house was kept in great opulence. Edward had a French chef, a French valet, marbles from Italy laid in the floor and fireplaces, expensive wines, and soon became well known for his lavish open handed entertaining

St. John found elder son James Rochester to be a dissolute womanizing scoundrel. Young James was well on his way to becoming a drunkard, too. The second son, Richard was circumspect in his habits. He graduated from Cambridge summa cum laude and already had Ferndean manor running efficiently, an amazing feat for one so young. There was something uncomfortable, something calculating about Richard Rochester. Maybe St. John disliked the second son because he saw a little of himself in the confident but cold young man. The third child, Helen, was a beauty who had been thoroughly spoiled by Edward. Any of Jane's misgivings about the character of the little girl was a way to generate a dispute with her husband that ended in shouting and accusations. She was attending a boarding school that, in St. John's eyes, did little more than teach the girls to snare rich husbands, and spend their money on couturier shops and jewelry. The curriculum had little that was rigorous in academics and the religious instruction was minimal.

Going to Thornfield, confronting the ledgers, chastising the Rochester children revived St. John. Why, was it not like Christ cleansing the temple? St. John scourged the family. James Rochester had his allowance cut. Richard Rochester retreated to his ivory tower of Ferndean and made more improvements on the farm. Helen Rochester was broght home. She was told to disassociate herself from the other society girls that also attended the boarding school, dress modestly and deport herself as a future Christian wife and help meet, worthy of her long suffering and sainted mother.

St. John met with bankers, paid bills, took away the thoroughbred horses, James' valet, and Helen's French lady's maid, reduced the servants and sold the wine cellar. The London house was sold to pay off it's expenses and the mortgage Edward had put on some of Thornfield's holdings. St. John even arranged to have a house in Minorca sold to pay off James Rochester's gambling debts.

Whenever St. John was on furlow from the mission in India, the Rochesters would visit Moor House. Edward's sight had been restored and, (in St. John's eyes) the arrogance was restored with the vision. Oh how the man could beguile women! Both Mary and Diana were almost as besotted with him as cousin Jane. And Jane? St. John shuddered remembering how Jane and Edward would hold hands during the table prayers, whisper together and shamelessly giggle at double entendres about going upstairs to "check the luggage". Disgusting.

Edward let his wife do as she pleased. She would spend the day painting. Jane eschewed corsets and bonnets. The last time St. John saw her, Jane was as brown as the women in India and her face was covered with freckles. Every winter, the Rochesters would pack themselves off to their home on the island of Minorca and Jane would paint her wild oils of the Mediterranean Sea. Edward even allowed Jane to have a showing in a Paris gallery under a androgynous pseudonym.

But now Jane was subdued--eating little, wearing black and silent. Once again she was the waif who collapsed half dead at Moor House all those years ago. Then, as now, Jane had been sundered forever from the evil influence of Edward Rochester. The only difference in the present time was that death had made that separation permanent.

St. John knew that Jane needed purpose--that she liked to have constructive activity and that she to please. He knew that he had great power and influence over Jane. St. John believed that God had returned Jane into his care because it was God's plan to at last have them become man and wife and serve Him.

The Rochester children were aghast. It wasn't enough that the hated righteous cousin St. John interfered with the life at Thornfield-- But now, he was also taking their mother away!

Jane passively allowed St. John to alter Thornfield. She let him make all decisions. Why not? Jane had nothing left. Her love was dead, Minorca sold, her children were distant. The box of colored pencils, watercolors, oils and charcoals were untouched. How could she think of colors when her life was so undefined and grey? One day was like another as Jane moved through the months as someone sleepwalking. The upheaval at Thornfield she could only faintly discern beyond the fog bank of her consciousness. It was an effort to even sit in the parlor and listen to the lawyers and bankers. Jane only smiled, nodded wearily and returned to a land inside her head where she was walking on the beach with Edward. He was wearing a white suit and smoking a cigar...

What was marriage to St. John for Jane? A life away from the hall, becoming the dowager Lady Jane, the debts and worry about James dissolute life. She could leave the silks and satins in the wardrobe, put on simple grey cottons or black stuff dresses and become Jane Eyre again. God fearing, doing His work...and St. John would take her away from the pain of memory of Edward. St. John could still compel her to sacrifice. Edward, Thornfield and the pain of loss was put in a box in the far corner of her mind, locked and shut away. But, in marrying St. John, renouncing being the lady of the manor and becoming a humble handmaiden for the Lord and a Doer of Good Works, Jane also shut away a part of herself.

So, they married. Jane was to serve God to expiate the life with Edward Rochester. One night after they arrived in Southampton was a night when St. John succumbed to his animal nature...then they became almost strangers. Parallel lives planning the mission school curriculum, Jane playing the hymns for the church service after the sermon, Jane supervising the cleaning and restoring the hospital, learning the Spanish and the Yoruba of the island. Always polite, meals together and everything was correct, straight and good in the Eyes of the Lord.

But, the women of Jamaica were looking at one another knowingly long before the bulge around Jane's middle became noticeable. Something about how pale she was and the far away look in the eyes...

Jane was qualmish and pale through the whole journey to Jamaica. She tried to dismiss it as sea sickness, but her inner voice kept telling her the truth. After bearing six children to Edward Rochester, Jane knew the signs and that her one and only night with St. John was giving her a seventh child.

--

Mrs. Celestine Awe, society matron of New York City found herself standing in a ballroom in a smart London townhouse. The party was sponsored by some upper class socialite through the Awe's connection in the American Ambassador's circle. As impressive as these glittering receptions were, Celestine knew that her wealthy husband's wallet was the true invitation, nothing else. Celestine and Dwight heard the whispered "More Americans? God help us" as they dropped their calling cards into the silver tray in the foyer and handed their wraps to the butler. They looked at one another, shrugged and became deaf to the sotto voce comments. However, their only child, daughter Caroline colored and gasped. She looked close to tears.

Celestine grabbed Caroline by the arm and whispered, "Lift up your chin and smile.That's power, my girl. Show 'em that you are the daughter of Celestine and Dwight, people who pulled themselves up with smarts and grit, not with an old snobby name. Your father and I are proud of our Caro. You got into that fancy school with yer own head and yer own smarts, not because your father was Lord Hoity Toity High and Mighty." Caroline looked at her mother with a little fear and respect. Say what you would, Caroline's mother was not afraid of anything. A new glint of steel appeared in Caroline's large blue eyes

For, she was not always Celestine Awe. She did not always have gowns designed by Worth, matched sets of chestnut carriage horses, satin sheets, doors opened as if by magic at luxury hotels or having as her most trying task deciding which set of Spode china to serve the afternoon tea.

This formidable New York society matron was born Selena Sarby of Northern New York State. Her parents came from the tiny hardscrabble dairy farms so characteristic of the area. Generations of trying to coax crops out of soil that was half gravel and half worn out dirt took its toll. Selena's father moved to the small town of Knopfen Falls, to where there was a small tannery and glass works factory. The hours were long and the wages were scanty. What her father did earn was squandered at the neighboring saloon. He would return to the two room shack they called home and begin to beat their mother. By that time, Selena had already hidden her brothers and sister under the bed and was motioning them to be quiet

Celestine grew up grateful for a piece of cornbread, although she would often give her share to her hungry younger brothers and sisters. Shoes made from Morocco leather, how about having any shoes to wear in the brutal upstate New York winters? It did not even matter that they fit. Which house for the summer--Long Island or the island off of Massachusetts? Well, what about begging to sleep in the Presbyterian church because papa drank away the rent money?

Blatantly sending a daughter out to snare an English aristocratic title with her wiles and money? How about the day that Celestine saw that Mama had no more food, not even an apple. There were three little ones, younger than Celestine with empty stomachs. Celestine pinned up her hair, brushed off her only good dress and went to the local hotel to sell herself.

The man from New York City paid Celestine with a real silver dollar. Her mother had a wonderful gooseberry tart from the kitchen of the hotel. The brothers and sister had milk, white bread, butter, cheese and even their fill of apples.

One Spring morning, Selena handed over half of her savings to her mother's landlord. This would be the assurance that the little ones had a roof over their heads for several months. Selena also intimated to the landlord that her family had best not be put out on the road or there would be Hell to pay.

Selena kicked the dust off her feet and made her way to Saratoga Springs. She had a mission. Never again would she be hungry or beholden to another for her welfare. And, she was going to be able to put her feet up at night and her shoes under her bed and sleep soundly.

Young David Issur Auer was visiting a new business associate at the Saratoga Springs spa hotel. He also had a goal. It was simple--he was going to be rich and he was going to be a gentleman. In America, to become a gentleman, all you had to do was become rich. Problem to solution. Life was simple. Where he was born in Memel Lithuania, it was not simple.

David met the young Selena. It did not matter that she earned her money on her back accommodating the male guests of the hotel. David recognized in the smart red haired girl someone who was also hungry for more than food. He understood that there were people who survived.

At the Saratoga Springs Municipal Marriage Registry, Selena Sarby of Knopfen Falls and David Auer of Memel Lithuania died. Out of the ashes rose Mr. and Mrs. Dwight and Celestine Awe were born. They were partners. And, in five years, they were rich.

From across the room, a youngish man noticed the Awe family enter the room. He was nattily dressed in white tie. Upon closer inspection, one would notice that his linen shirt, though once expensive, was a little threadbare and that a small burn spot was covered by clever arrangement of his cravat. He gave the impression of that insouciant confidence that was from a life of priviledge and luxury. Closer inspection would show that he was of smallish height with mousy brown hair. His face was small, almost elfish. In a woman, it would never be beautiful, but lit with a personality it could be piquant. However, in this young man it betrayed a weakness of character. The black eyes were large and fine. Tonight they were clear, not bloodshot and bleary with drink. He pasted a charming smile, threw back his shoulders. He advanced to the Americans, bowed and asked the sign his name on Caroline Awe's dance card. With a flourish, the name "James Eyre Rochester" was written on the top of the card.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter One

The heiress

Early one afternoon, twenty four year old James Rochester awakened. His head throbbed and the inside of his mouth felt like it was lined with cotton. Gingerly he raised his head, bracing himself for the inevitable vertigo and nausea. When the room ceased spinning and his eyes began to focus, James realized that he was in his rooms at his club, "The Siena". He also realized that he must have been lying in a stupor on the parlor carpet for several hours. How many hours was a mystery, but young James had long ago decided not to keep track. He had awakened many times in the past on the floor of his London club, or in the easy chair of one of his drinking partners' drawing rooms or libraries. Once (though James winced at the memory) he found himself in the filthy bed of a whore's den in Whitechapel.

The Rochester children, James, Richard and Helen, grew up with nannies and tutors. Even though they were a mere thirteen months apart in age and full brothers, no two men could possibly have been as different from one another as James and Richard Rochester. James was bright, witty and had a gift for conversation. He was more than able to do what was asked, but it was so much easier to have brother Richard do the tedious schoolwork while James tormented or charmed the teachers. It was difficult to punish James as he had a ready smile, a wit and irresistible charm when he wanted favors. Serious and quiet Richard applied himself to his schoolwork. Helen was a beautiful child, adored by their father and tolerated by their mother. Helen dreamed of marrying a rich man or a soldier and becoming a mother. She spent more time in front of a mirror than in front of a book. Their father, ever the patron of all that was beautiful, indulged Helen with abandon.

James was already well on the path of the kind of man he eventually became by the time he and his younger brother Richard were sent to Eton. James never applied himself to his studies, but always was ready to sneak out of the rooms and find a local farmer who made liquor. Later, the nocturnal trips included the local farmer's daughters' and the whores.

Only father's name, ancestry, influence and money gained James' entrance to Cambridge. Brother Richard entered Cambridge a year later on invitation and was offered many scholarships. As with everything, the sober and focused Richard Rochester excelled in his studies and had even co-authored a book on Geology of West Africa by his second year. "Such a shame, that young master Richard won't inherit the title and Thornfield…" James heard the many whispers comparing the always-successful Richard to the elder dissolute James.

As dull and punctual little brother was, that same scrupulous nature made him a loyal friend. Never did Richard show that he chafed at being the second son. As children, the two boys were inseparable. The long summer days with Richard were James' happiest memories. He remembered the fireworks on the beach at the Minorca house, playing toy soldiers, and climbing the trees at Thornfield Hall. Often Richard quietly accepted punishments for the pranks that James invented. Richard would never betray his elder brother.

Richard inherited Ferndean. Already the smaller manor was showing a profit in the agriculture endeavors. Richard's science and travel books were widely read and had many reprints. And, the marriage to the granddaughter of their neighbor and friend, Colonel Dent, added land and wealth to the estate. In fact, over the past five years, James had to quietly float more than one loan from Richard.

Maybe Ferndean was more manageable than the ponderous family seat of Thornfield, thought James with bitter irony. Would Richard have been as successful with the social obligations and responsibilities of Thornfield if HE had to play the part of Baron Rochester? It was now being said that the days of the great houses were over. Even the summer home in Minorca, mother's pride and joy, had to be sold to maintain the façade of the great gentleman's seat of Thornfield Manor and fund a proper dowry for their sister Helen Jane. None of the Rochester children were attached to the property. Their widowed mother did not wish to live in Minorca without their father.

James Rochester had no skills to help him survive. The only talent he cultivated was how to be a gentleman. The only accomplishments he acquired was how to spend money on clothes, food, wine and women. His sister Helen did like to hear him play the piano. James also had a fine singing voice and some minor dilettante talent for painting and drawing.

True terror came when James was sent to Cambridge. He knew, in his heart, that it was not the place for him. But, mother had her heart set on it. "It was your father's wish,…" she said to him. Her profound sadness as she sat in her widow weeds stopped James or anyone from presenting serious misgivings about just how unsuitable the elder Rochester boy was for Cambridge. Perhaps the Edward Rochester would have been a refuge, would have listened and understood that his elder son was not made for the university. But, father was dead.

By the time Edward Rochester died, James had already compromised much of his inheritance with a dissolute life. It was never said aloud, but mother's accusing eyes were all too eloquent in confirming her own opinion that the disappointment in the elder Rochester son brought on his father's death. Mother was born at the same time as the Queen, so it was natural, James supposed, that mother would also treat HER first son the way Queen Victoria was treating the Prince of Wales.

Well, was mother any better? Within the year, she was remarried to a missionary, her cousin St. John Rivers. It came out that for many years Parson Rivers had nursed a secret passion for Jane. The Rochester children had always disliked the cold St. John Rivers. Mother held him up as an exemplary model of a true man of God and a tireless doer of Good Deeds. The Rochester children only remembered the family reunions where Parson Rivers had endless table prayers and dull mandatory evening devotions. James was often rebuked for becoming restless or encouraging Helen to giggle during the prayers. The cold eyes St. John cast upon them while they interrupted the devotions and their mother's warning of further punishment only increased their mirth. Father simply loathed the man and often quietly encouraged the boys in their mockery of the humorless parson Rivers. Now they understood their father's feelings.

As far as James was concerned, father's bed was barely cold when mother and St. John abandoned the Rochester children and left England for a mission in Jamaica. And, a baby son born less than a year later. Indecent, at mother's age, said James. Lovely sister Helen Rochester agreed. She announced that mother would never see nor hear of her again, this side of heaven.

What Richard thought was hidden in the young man's enigmatic character. He never mentioned mother, St. John or the baby. Richard immersed himself in his research and books and in making Ferndean thrive.

James had his father's fine dark eyes and brilliance of conversation. But from his mother he had the smallish stature, the light brown hair and an elfish face. Richard had the darker colors of the Rochesters, but their mother's greenish eyes. Helen was a true beauty. She was tall, with the dark looks of the Rochesters combined with her mother's smaller features to create a face and form of rare piquant loveliness. It was ironic that Helen Rochester was the belle of London at her coming out as neither of her parents was noted for their looks.

James often resented his mother for giving him that small stature. Shouldn't the Lord of the Manor be tall and imposing? No one, not one tenant nor anyone in the family took James seriously. The only time young James felt confident was when he was deep into his cups. Then, he could talk and felt himself to be the best of companions.

Slowly, James sat up. The waves of nausea were past, just a dull ache in his head remained of the previous night's activities. His last memory was of a jolly little public house in the East End. How did he get back to his rooms at the Siena?

No matter, it was time for action. The beautiful rooms at the Siena were in arrears for payment. James' tailor refused to hand over the new waistcoat until payment was made. It was imperative that he return to Thornfield next week to supervise Helen's engagement party. How fortunate that Richard was in London to fund the journey and provide him companionship. But, until then, where was the cash to be found?

James hoisted himself up to his feet and called out for his valet. Then, he remembered that Osbert had left his service. Richard paid the back wages, of course. James had been brushing his own clothes and tying his own cravat for weeks. Well, what of it? Fortune would change, the wheel always moved.

James already had a plan in motion. There were more Americans coming to London society soirees every season. As much as the British upper class had contempt for these people, the Americans had one redeeming feature---ready fortunes and cold cash to spend. Every ambassador wanted their daughter to have a London coming out as a seal on their climb to the top of the New York or Philadelphia social ladder. And, they were not too particular about whom their daughters married or how impoverished a titled fop had become, as long as there was the promise of a title with an ancient name to be bought.

Dear father was "Sir Edward Rochester" at the time of his death. Thornfield had become a Baron's holding. Dear father was the MP for the district, too. Mother did not enjoy being Lady Jane. But, James relished becoming Baron James Rochester.

And, at the ambassador's ball two nights ago, seventeen-year-old Miss Caroline Awe of New York was speechless when introduced to James Rochester, esq. of Thornfield Hall. She finally managed to stammer, "You are a real English noble lord?" James had smothered his wince at the flat New World twang in her speech. The millions she was to inherit from her father's industrial holdings would certainly make him deaf to any distasteful or laughable patterns of Yankee elocution.

Miss Caroline was tall, red haired, statuesque with pretty blue eyes. At least, James thought as he looked for a presentable coat for afternoon tea, he could bear looking at her across Thornfield's breakfast room every morning. As long as she didn't talk with her nasal New York voice. When she was safely encroached as Lady James Rochester, they could get busy and produce strapping heirs and perhaps a daughter to present in London. Hopefully he could get Miss Caroline, or, Lady James Rochester to take some elocution.

James stopped brushing his jacket and frowned. Miss Caroline had the physique that could maybe go to fat in later years, especially after child bearing. Well, no matter. As lady Caroline Rochester, she would have everything that a title and marriage to an old name could give. After giving birth to the Heir, The Spare second son and a beautiful daughter, husbandly duties would no longer be necessary. Lady Rochester would be continuously occupied while ordering servants, arranging nannies and governesses, writing letters, planning the menus, presiding over historical societies, needlework at house parties, hunt breakfasts and planning the social events of the county. James could leave the running of Thornfield in her capable hands while he spent her money in London. After all, as a shopkeeper's daughter and a brash American, Miss Caroline surely must be intrinsically skilled with managing houses and money.

Clearly, fortune was going to smile. Miss Caroline watched James all evening from behind her fan. James put his best foot forward to win the heiress from America. He scrawled "James Rochester of Thornfield Hall" on her dance card as many times as it was decently possible. She blushed and stammered and giggled every time he danced with her. When James was not dancing with Miss Caroline, he stood in the corner, arms folded and glowering—the very picture of the jealous suitor. He even endeavored to restrict his intake of alcohol and thus presented himself as the very picture of proper British gentlemanly decorum. This was in case anyone had whispered to Miss Caroline the history of his usual nocturnal activities.

James knew from much experience when a woman was taken in by his formidable charms and it was most clear that Miss Caroline was smitten. The number of times they danced was noted in the next day's social register. They exchanged calling cards. He promised to call on her within the week.

What matter if Miss Caroline's father, Dwight Awe was born David Issur Auer in Memel Lithuania or Poland or Russia? A latent upper class disdain against Jews was prevalent in James' social circles. It was of no consequence that the old Mr. Awe still looked like a shopkeeper in his expensive London suit of clothes. The money, as far as James was concerned, had a fit and color that outdid the skills of the smartest Saville Row tailor!

James did not want to cut his face while shaving or have a cravat that was sloppy while he went courting. Surely Richard would loan him money for a manservant one last time. This was not vanity or an evening of carousing but an investment in the future of Thornfield and the salvation of the Rochester name. With the Awe millions, debts to Richard could be repaid tenfold!


	3. Chapter 3

_Explanation_

_Some of my ideas were inspired by a fan-fiction rant blog. The writer pleaded with fan-fiction writers to keep the characters that Charlotte Bronte devised as real human beings, not some fluffy supermarket romance creatures. The writer pointed out that Charlotte Bronte depicted her people as very real with human foibles and frailties. Both Jane and Edward had baggage. Edward would not have instantly lost his appreciation for women. He had a history of not always telling Jane the whole truth. Jane, while at Moor House, was under St. John's power. She admired him and still may have been anxious to please him. Someone who spent a childhood abused and unloved could be convinced of her unworthiness. There was a difference in age between Jane and Edward. Also, when one is widowed or divorced, one does not always think clearly and becomes very vulnerable. Jane was always a realist, but she would act rashly when under duress. _

_I am using the Bronte family as inspiration for characters. For example, James Rochester is similar to the drunken Branwell Bronte—small of stature, dissolute, and dishonest with money. Branwell was a charming and an eloquent companion but only when drunk. Charlotte herself did not care for children. She resented the time spent teaching as it took away from her fantasy world of writing about Angria. Emily's teacher said that she should have been a man. Maybe she would have been like the character Richard Rochester--content with hearth and home. Charlotte Bronte herself was disappointed in love. She could not have the love of her life, M. Heger. So, in the novel "Villette" she killed off M. Paul rather than let Lucy Snowe "have" him. Or did M. Paul die? Charlotte's own father begged her put a happy ending on "Villette" Miss Bronte, had she lived, would have continued to dig into character development. Perhaps her most mature style would have predated Thomas Hardy.  
_

**Master Crispin Rivers **

The months after losing Edward were a blur of grief and confusion. Then, like an avenging angel, St. John appeared to point the way back to a life purpose. Marriage to St. John, the idea of serving God in a mission was the promise to to give her life meaning again. Her love, her passion Edward was dead. St. John's assessment from those many years ago that she was made for labor, not for love was coming true. In her numb state, that was a comfort. Being useful was the only course for a not so very attractive widow who did not have a fortune.

Within a few weeks, Jane knew that marrying St. John was a terrible mistake that was made when she was desperate. Her life was now fettered to a cold and strange man whom she did not love. The Rochester children James, Richard and Helen turned their back on their mother.

But, God is good—He gave Jane her the child of her heart, Crispin Rivers. Jane looked with awe at the little boy. Fate and circumstance brought her this angelic, almost ethereal creature. No matter what hidden anguish was in her heart, Jane thanked God every day for her youngest child. Crispin was a blessing.

The boy was very fair, so fair that his skin seemed translucent. Crispin's eyes were not just blue, but were like the colors from Jane's paint box marked "cerulean". His features were classic--perfect nose, well spaced large eyes, broad forehead and a sweet expression. The pale hair was grew in loose curls around his head. Jane remembered the carvings of the cherubs she saw in the Renaissance churches in Italy. The child could have been the inspiration for those little angels. He had his father's features, but the coldness was overlaid with Jane's quizzical elfin charm to allay the coldness that St. John's face carried.

Crispin had a sanguine disposition. As an infant, he never cried, never fussed over being cold, hot or unhappy. He simply smiled. It was as if he knew that he could create a charmed circle--Crispin smiled, the world smiled back, he smiled more, the world smiled even brighter and all doors were open to him. St. John wondered if his son was "quite right". In his dour condescending manner, St. John commented that the child was, after all, the product a moment of carnal weakness and the parents were first cousins...

Far from being at all impaired, young Crispin showed that he had a genius about him. He excelled in his school work, as in all tasks presented to his small self. Jane listened with a furious joy to his treble voice as he read aloud from Sir Walter Scott at the age of six. He understood the account books and the finances of the mission at an early age, too. There was a piano in the corner of the mission parlor. One day, Jane found Crispin picking out tunes and singing quietly and joyously.

Jane fussed about her son's fair skin and the climate of Jamaica and Barbados. But, she soon realized that along with intellectual health, Master Crispin was a very sturdy child. Heat did not affect him. On the rare visits to England, he also cheerfully acclimated himself to the cold and damp; wearing the woolen clothing, hats and shoes with good humor. Crispin rarely ever ill. He threw off the occasional cold in a few days and, the usual episodes of mumps, measles and chicken pox were only small detours.

The other children and the adults of the island were as enchanted with Crispin as his mother was. Never did his many gifts or beauty generate envy. Crispin was a kind and patient listener and seemed to be interested in all that others said or did. He quickly and easily made friends with the English and native children alike. The child had many playmates among the native children, even learning the Yoruba based secret language and gaining their trust with ease. The more superstitious inhabitants of Barbados thought that all association with Crispin would seal their good luck.

The child had a vague knowledge of two half brothers in England and a half sister who emigrated to America. Crispin only knew about these people from conversations he overheard. As the England family had no interest in him, Crispin did not sully his charmed universe with thoughts of them. There were also two doting aunties, in England. The elder aunt, Diana, had even made a few trips to Barbadoes and Spanish Town.

One person who did not seem to love Crispin was the man who ought to have loved him the most, his father the Reverend St. John Rivers. It was the only cloud in the young boy' life. St. John spoke of Crispin in the third person, even in the child's presence. When the servants or members of his flock praised the boy, St. John merely looked into the distance. Jane would attempt to have her husband listen to the child play at music, lead him to the school room to witness Crispin's outstanding ability to read, show St. John the account books, or the already fine examples of artwork. St. John's handsome features would turn to marble. He would utter his belief that the evil one must be involved if a child is so perfect.

Crispin was educated by his mother. The mission house had a substantial library. Jane realized that her marriage to Edward Rochester was similar to an extended university education, what with their many evenings of reading and discussions of many topics. She managed to salvage some of the books from Thornfield. If Crispin had been typical of the English residents of Spanish Town, he would have been sent back to England for schooling. Jane could not bear the thought of parting with Crispin. So, she became his only teacher. It was during a lesson about the history of Charles I that a servant came into the schoolroom to say that there were visitors from England.


	4. Chapter 4

Fleeing England

Mrs. Celestine Awe and her daughter, Lady James Rochester gazed at the horizon. After some time at sea, they were relieved to see land. The breezes off the Caribbean Islands were already welcome after the gales from the North Atlantic. To Celestine, they were almost home to New York and thank God for that. For Caroline Rochester, it was an entirely different matter.

The three young Rochester children, Edward, David and Celine were running on the deck. Caroline looked at them fondly. Caroline did not care for the upper class British ways of hiring a nanny and a governess. James felt that Caroline neglected her duties to the Thornfield region's social obligations. With Caroline's money, they could certainly afford to have all the help they needed.

In the last few years, James really didn't seem to take notice of his wife's daily life at Thornfield. After the birth of little Celine, he avoided his wealthy American spouse and stayed in London. Caroline was left to maintain Thornfield. The furnishings and artwork stayed the same, just as James' parents had left it. Caroline even left the master bedroom that had belonged to Jane Eyre and Edward Rochester untouched and refurnished a massive front room for herself. Caroline's money did take care of the repairs and the damage the damp did to the plaster. She also installed modern conveniences such as plumbing in the kitchen and gaslight in the main room, a reproduction of the old minstrel gallery from the burned down Thornfield.

Richard Rochester and his wife occasionally made the thirty mile journey to Thornfield for tea or dinner. Helen Rochester married a younger son of the Eshton family. They emigrated to America, to homestead in the new state of Wisconsin to make their fortunes in land speculation and agriculture and the new railroads that were booming across the new land. Caroline was most circumspect and gracious to Richard Rochester as she knew he made many journeys to London and would give his brother any and all information about Thornfield.

Caroline's parents, Mr. and Mrs. Dwight Awe, were frequent visitors to Thornfield. They were growing more concerned about their daughter. Dwight was outraged at how the new titled son in law's spending habits. The initial wedding gift of cash was gone. He was glad that Caroline's inheritance was set up in a trust. The principal was in New York under control of a board of directors and was doled out in an annuity based on the interest alone. If James Rochester were able to get his hands on the principal, it would be gone in a year on clothes, trips to Paris and women.

Dwight and Celestine realized that they pushed their daughter into flirting with the titled. Upon first meeting James, they were charmed. James, Baron Rochester had wonderful manners, seemed educated, dressed well, and was so attentive and interested in their lives. James exhibited a fascination about America and asked intelligent questions. The family was invited to Thornfield, the family home, to be guests at the engagement party of James' sister Helen. At the party, the Awes met James' brother Richard Rochester. Of course, Richard's fame as a naturalist and author preceded him. Richard's first book about Africa was on the center table in the ladies' drawing room in the Fifth Avenue Mansion.

Celestine did not grow up poor for nothing. Her shrewd eyes saw that James' expensive cravat was a little frayed. She observed the worn spots on the carpets, stains on the plaster, and noticed that the servants at the party did not know what to do. This was because they were hired for the occasion of the engagement. Otherwise, the house was sparsely staffed. The grand old family seat of Thornfield was putting up a brave front and the Rochester family could no longer afford its upkeep.

The brother Richard and the sister Helen were also quiet on the subject of their eldest brother. Privately, Celestine Awe wished that it was the careful Richard Rochester who was available to marry Caroline. Alas, Richard was already married, and to a local gentry family who had been friends with the Rochesters time out of mind. Richard and his wife had a toddler son and a second baby on the way.

It was painfully clear that Baron James Rochester was courting Miss Caroline for money, period. Celestine wanted a brilliant marriage for her daughter. Caroline, remembering her own father, recognized a drunk when she saw one. And, in her opinion, James Rochester was a drunkard.

At first, Dwight Awe was not as apprehensive as his wife. The name "Rochester" was an ancient name. His daughter would become Lady James Rochester and Baroness Rochester. Every young man had to sow wild oats. Surely, with Caroline's money and children in the house James would settle into being the Lord of the Manor and a decent husband. Thornfield II was a fine house.

Caroline, being only seventeen years old, was besotted with James. His elegant manners, his name and his attentive courtship overwhelmed. When her mother attempted to talk to her daughter, Caroline flounced out of the room. This was the first time she defied her mother in anything. What with Dwight being so enthusiastic and Caroline in love, a brilliant marriage took place in the ancient church that stood outside the gates of Thornfield.

That was ten years ago. Caroline never saw James more than twice a year. She had done her duty as a brood mare to the Rochesters-an heir, a spare and a daughter to present in London. A child every three years. James made it painfully clear that he was no longer inclined to co-habitate with "The American". At parties, he mocked her New York accent, and when drunk, would tell tales of a wife who insisted upon nursing her own children.

Caroline retained her tall slender form. Her hair was still the brilliant red and her eyes were bright blue. To all, she was a fine looking woman. Caroline watched over the Thornfield estates and saw that all, servants and tenants, were treated fairly. Even the gentry that she was obliged to socialize with admitted that "The American", Lady Rochester, was a well educated woman, a good mother and combined a shrewd business head with a good heart to make Thornfield prosper. As the gossip floated in from London, the local people, gentry and villagers alike began to pity Caroline and her children. "How old Edward would have hated this" they whispered. And, a few even mentioned that his widow, now Mrs. Jane Rivers, would be scandalized.

When little Celine was about three years old, Celestine Awe swept into Thornfield. Dwight Awe had communications from his London offices about his titled son in law that was not good news. Celestine had information from her social circles about James Rochester that was also disturbing. The letters from their daughter were always correct, full of news about the children, the parties, the business of running the estate. Celestine looked between the lines. Her daughter never had anything to say about James Rochester.

Until Caroline could not bear it any longer. An alarming message to her parents through a trusted friend in the American Embassy.

The practical Celestine Awe took one look at her daughter, the children and proposed a trip to America. James had not been home for months. The bills for his London house were mounting. Dwight Awe was angry, but he also knew that Caroline needed to be removed quietly. Then, he would act. In the meantime, he paid James' debts, paid the staff their salary at Thornfield and arranged to have his daughter brought to America.

The reason was given out that the grandparents wanted to have the children visit for the summer. The Awe family had a mansion east of New York City on the ocean. The children could spend a summer by the sea. Caroline was ready to argue that the Rochester children spent their winters on the Island of Minorca. James did not even notice that they were leaving. Caroline and her mother assumed a relaxed air. They did not want any rumor of panic to reach James in London. Caroline did not trust Richard Rochester, either.

They were really fleeing England.

It was when they were in Southhampton that Caroline asked her mother to book a passage to Jamaica. It was time, she said, that the mysterious grandmother in Spanish Town saw her grandchildren. Caroline also wanted to meet Jane Eyre/Rochester/Rivers.

Celestine broke into a pleased smile. It was time to find out the truth. The passage to Kingston Harbor was booked.


	5. Chapter 5

The boat docked at the harbor in Kingston Jamaica. Caroline Rochester stooped to tie the bonnet strings on her little daughter Celine, and then thought better of it. The child's hair was already damp from the heat and humidity. Mother and daughter were dressed in loose white dresses. Caroline even stowed her bonnet away with her now abandoned corsets, loosened her coiffure and enjoyed the freedom. The constraints of being an English upper class matron life were discarded with the bonnet and corset. Caroline did give Celine a parasol. The increased sunshine could burn fair skin that was accustomed to the English climate.

The Rochesters, Lady Caroline and her children Edward, James and Celine and their American grandmother, Mrs. Celestine Awe, waited for conveyance to Spanish Town, which was some miles inland from Kingston. A message had been sent on to Spanish Town to discreetly inform Mrs. Jane Rivers that there were people from England who would be visiting. In the message, Mrs. Awe said that there was nothing to fear, but requested that Mrs. Rivers keep the news to herself until she was contacted again.

The island cast its spell on Caroline and Celestine. They stood on the dock and let the warm breezes wash over them. The white sand of the beach reflected the sun. In the endless horizon, the Atlantic was a bright blue that reflected the warm sky and the white sand. The view of the island was green mountains covered with trees and vegetation that went from a dusky green to a dark green. Along the quay's buildings, the palm trees lined the sand road. How different from the dirty gray ocean and cold winds at the Harbor in England!

The boys ran from the deck to the beach. Whooping and hollering, they threw their hats on the ground. Little David ran headlong into a dock worker, knocking them both over. The child was immediately abashed, waiting for punishment. The man only laughed, brushed the sand off himself and David and said "Welcome to our island, little man" with an accent of the local patois. This too was different from England, where children were always to be seen and not heard. The dock worker picked up his cargo and continued along the beach, laughing and singing a song about flowers, the sea and dancing with a beautiful girl in the moonlight.

--

The journey to Spanish Town was on a dusty road with a view of the mountains. Their driver and the hired body guard named Big George said that the local name for the hills was the Blue Mountains. All along the road was the intense green vegetation and bright red fluffy flowers. The children asked what the name of the flowers were and were told that they were the flame flowers.

They kept up a constant barrage of questions to the body guard--what are those animals--are those lizards poisonous? David and Edward asked if there were any man eating tigers on the road. Little Celine looked at Big George's dark skin and asked if it could wash off. The older brothers gasped in fear of punishment, and Edward put a hand over their sister's mouth. David started to mouth an apology, he so feared that his baby sister would get her ears boxed for her impertinence.

However, Big George and the driver laughed and laughed, loud booming laughs. The body guard picked up little Celine, put her on his lap and said that the color of his skin was the way God made him, just like the blue eyes and red hair that God gave to little Celine. Then, he motioned Edward and David closer, and gave them a conspiratorial wink. Big George said that on the Islands, all children were said to be close to Angels their questions came from God and their innocence was treasured.

Big George looked at the children with a twinkle in his eye"Young master, there are no man eating tigers on Jamaica. But once upon a time, there was a trickster on the island" Little Celine knew that a story was coming and snuggled closer to Big George, finger in her mouth. "Once upon a time, the spider Adancy decided that he wanted to be a ship captain..." The driver smiled at the cozy scene. How the Anglos kept their children under such fear of being punished.

Celestine and Caroline dozed in the pleasant warmth. Caroline suddenly felt safe for the first time in years.

In the evening, in view of a wild dark pink sunset, the travelers from England arrived at a hotel in Spanish Town. Big George and the driver assured them that, even though the establishment was not the most luxurious, it was safe and clean. The building was whitewashed, and had an inviting veranda with wicker rocking chairs and bright flowers growing in large containers.

Caroline looked at her mother with a questioning expression. For all her life, a hotel meant smartly dressed attentive door men, five star meals served in the suites, hot water on demand and a lady's maid

Celestine laughed. "My goodness Caro." She said "You keep forgetting that your mother is from a poor family in upstate New York and spent the first thirteen years of her life sleeping on a corn shuck mattress on a dirt floor. I don't need a luxury hotel with servants to get a decent night of sleep." Caroline laughed, the first real laugh since she left England and James Rochester. The children were enchanted at the small hotel. They were already running up the veranda.

The rooms were airy, clean and the sounds and smell of the islands lulled the family to sleep.

--

The next morning, a carriage was hired to travel to the mission compound.

"Come children! We are ready to meet your grandmother!" Caroline adjusted the bonnet on little Celine and gave Eddie and David a little tweak. "But, we already know YOU, grandmama Sellie" protested David. Caroline smiled at the boy. "Yes, but you also have a grandmama Jane. She is your father's mama." The little boy looked puzzled. He tried to remember his papa, but just could not bring the face to mind.

Little Eddie remembered papa, but did not like his memories. "Will he laugh at us like papa did?" asked Eddie, an apprehensive look clouding his bright blue eyes. Caroline stifled her anger at the now far away James Rochester. How unnatural, to inspire fear instead of love in his sons! The man was so fortunate that he had three very healthy and vibrant children. Instead, he made disparaging comments about their red hair and their "American" manners and disappeared back to London.

On the other hand, thought Caroline, at least the man will not come looking for them for a very long time. Dwight's people would see to it that when James sobered up enough to notice that his family had been gone for months, he would not be able to afford to drag them back to England.

Caroline smiled, forcing gayety for the sake of the children. "Now Edward, I have heard that your grandmother Jane was once a governess to aunt Adele. Do you remember how Auntie Adele says that she loved her first teacher?" The boys nodded solemnly. Little Celine danced around singing "Aunt Adele! Aunt Adele!" They loved their Aunt Adele, another person who was banned from Thornfield by James.

Celestine came up to the carriage, and turned her family with a smile. Already, Caroline had recovered some of her fine coloring and lost the frightened expression. The children were laughing and talking without any restraint or fear. It may not be God's law to encourage a married couple to separate, but was it also God's law to force a vibrant young woman, a good mother and innocent children to put up with the likes of James Rochester?

Celestine had only heard rumors about James' mother Jane. Richard Rochester never spoke about his mother. James Rochester and Helen Rochester Eshton called their mother a "whore" and once James did so in front of the children. Caroline had to shush her husband. No matter what, it would not do to sully the image of the children's grandmother.

Celestine Awe was world wise. The woman Jane Rochester/Rivers must have had a great need to leave England. The local people around Thornfield remembered Jane as a fine and kind woman--someone who was correct and thoughtful in all she did. They told of the great love and reverence that James' parents had for one another--a love story out of a fairy tale. No, thought Celestine, a proper English wife with a religious education and who always was circumspect and responsible would not bolt on a whim.


	6. Chapter 6

The Mission House

Was this the woman who forgot her husband and abandoned England? Celestine Awe could not stop looking at the mother of James Rochester. Mrs. St. John Rivers or Jane Eyre Rochester Rivers calmly poured tea for her guests as if they were in the drawing room in Thornfield Manor. "Biscuits?" she inquired of Celestine, looking and smiling as if the two of them had tea every Thursday after embroidering altar clothes for the local Hay Church's Women's Auxillerary. This tiny proper woman, this woman in a plain dress, graying hair in prim hairstyle was the scarlet woman so evil that James, Richard and Helen banned all talk of her?

Earlier, they were ushered into the parlor by a dark skinned servant named Aurelia. No ceremony, no calling cards. Mrs. Rivers stood at the door, a smile on her face and her arms open to Edward, David and Celine. They instinctively ran to the little woman who stooped and embraced them. This was their other grandmama Jane! She picked up Celine, held David's hand and inclined her ear to Edward, excitedly recounting their ocean voyage. Patiently, Jane led her grandchildren to a table in a snug corner, found some ginger biscuits and honey cakes and listened to their childish prattle. All done while pouring up milk in mugs, brushing the hair out of Celine's eyes, and straightening little David's shirt.

Jane Rivers peered into David's face and into the little boy's dark eyes. "You are so like your grandfather Edward, you have those black eyes and your hair just won't stay put!" David's face clouded, and he looked like he was going to cry. "Grandfather Edward was not smiling in his picture. Was he ugly?" Jane embraced David and said, "Oh no, your grandfather had the best smile. Sometimes grown ups have to be serious in those paintings. Be proud that you are so like him in looks. Be prouder still if you emulate his intellect, goodness and brave spirit." "What is an emmilater, Grandmama Jane?" lisped Celine, looking up with her wide innocent stare. Jane brushed the biscuit crumbs from the little girl's dress and laughed. "You are a very bright girl who asks good questions. It means, that you are like someone. You, for example little sweetheart, 'emulate' your beautiful mother with your red hair, blue eyes and quick mind."

Jane looked over at Caroline Rochester as she explained the word to little Celine and smiled deep into her daughter in law's eyes. Caroline smiled back. This mother in law was not going to be a terror at all.

Jane fixed her expression of happiness, but inside she was raging. James was her son, but she could see that this little family was in pain. Something drove them from England, some hurt had been done that all of Caroline's money and all of Dwight Awe's power could never fix. Jane sighed. The children no doubt had been subjected to some terrible scenes from their drunken father. Yet, here they were--they traveled the long sea voyage to Jamaica and were reaching out to her. Jane was positive that James, Richard and Helen did not know where Caroline and the children were.

"And" the little woman thought to herself "They are not going to find out, either."

Grandmama Jane straightened her shoulders, assumed a brisk look and walked to where Caroline and Celestine were seated. Aurelia silently placed a tray that had a brown English teapot, mugs and a plate of honey cakes, chocolate and ginger biscuits. There was also a bowl of fruit on the table--bright and exotic. Celestine and Caroline, from a lifetime of staying in the poshest London hotels, recognized the mangoes and oranges. What delighted them was that Jane also had two apples, something that was not grown on the island.

Jane looked at the two women. "I concede to my Anglo Saxon roots in two areas. I must have my brown teapot, and I must have apples in the house, no matter what the cost." Celestine picked the fruit from the plate. "Where I was born, apples grew quite heartily. I think that my brothers, sisters and I lived on apples when there was no..." Celestine stoped. "Anyhow, Mrs. Rivers, you know how to make someone welcome." Jane's sharp eyes and ears did not miss Celestine's fleeting wistful expression. She liked Celestine all the better, knowing that the mother of Caroline was not a pampered upper class former debutant. Jane was eager to know the story of this woman who was the other grandmother.

Jane never enjoyed small talk. "So, what did my son do to you?" Caroline's composure abandoned her. She collapsed, head on her arms and began to cry, her red hair spilling from the pins. Jane and Celestine quickly left their chairs and clasped the sobbing Caroline.

"Oh God, he wants to divorce me! He wants to disinherit my children and put his—his whore's child in little Eddie's place." Caroline became hysterical. Silently, Aurelia came from the kitchen area. David and Edward sat in silent shock. Little Celine ran to the table screaming, "Mama, mama!" Jane motioned Aurelia to take the children back to their table while she and Celestine helped the almost prostrate Caroline to a bed behind the kitchen.

In the bedroom, Caroline continued to cry. Jane found another handkerchief while Celestine loosened her daughter's hair. "Come now, Caro. We are far, far away from that pig--" Celestine stopped, thinking that she had best not insult James in front of his mother. Jane feigned that she did not hear and continued to wipe the tears from Caroline's face. "Sweetheart, you are safe here with us" said Jane, emitting a sigh. "James is my first born and my son. Edward and I loved him too much. We were indulgent and now I see that we created a monster. Do not be afraid to tell us what happened." Caroline gulped and found her voice. "He has a whore, there were many women but this one lives openly with him in London. But, oh God...there is worse." Jane helped Caroline out of her frock and into a sleeping gown. From a box, Jane retrieved a blue bottle, measured out a spoonful of white liquid and gently told Caroline to drink. "This will sooth you and help you sleep. After a while, you can tell me more." Caroline fell into a dreamless deep slumber.

The two grandmothers looked for the children. Already, Aurelia and her husband Gustavo had them in the gardens, looking for lizards and telling them another tale about Anancy, the trickster spider.

Jane looked at Celestine and motioned to the veranda. They sat in the white wicker chairs. "What else did my son do to his family? Tell me what you know, and then we can make some plans." Celestine took a deep breath. "My husband has many contacts in London. James Rochester has been quite an 'investment'--ha, quite a drain on our money. Dwight, my husband, and I have been generous, but we earned our fortune. Dwight went from driving a cart of pots and pans to owning a railroad, several banks and part of the cotton and coffee growing concerns. James Rochester spends Caro's inheritence as fast as he can. For the sake of the children and to keep life at Thornfield in peace, we pay the bills. But, we have heard some bad news."

Celestine coughed and continued. "Dwight has heard that James has had attacks of madness--firing servants, setting fires, running through London laughing and screaming. The few friends he still has chase him down, restrain him and get him home. We have also paid our sources to find out that James has been to the doctor for treatments. His hair has been coming off. He is losing weight. Some years ago, Dwight received outstanding bills from a London doctor to treat a rash. When pressured, the doctor also admitted to treating a sore on...on...the..privates."

Celestine knew from her previous life, when she was still Selena, that James was sick with the French Disease. Madness usually came and then an early death. There was no cure.

The two women looked at each other. No more explanation was needed for Jane. In the mission hospital on the island, there were many that she had cared for many who were ill with "The French Disease". Sometimes mercury was used to treat the symptoms, but there was no cure.

Celestine continued. "I have had Caro seen by the best London doctors. She is not infected. James has been avoiding her for years. But," Celestine took another breath. "My husband and I are not willing to subsidize James any longer. We will pay to have him stay at Thornfield and for doctor care. He will be comfortable. But, I am keeping Caro and the children in America. If James brings any woman with him, the allowance will be cut."

Jane looked at Celestine. "I was Edward Rochester's second wife. His first, Bertha was from these islands. You know the story of the first Thornfield?" Celestine nodded, recalling the story of Edward Rochester's wife setting fire to the old hall and then jumping to her death. "Somehow, I always felt guilty about Bertha Mason Rochester." Said Jane. "This is why I was so willing to give my life to work in her place of origin. But, I always felt that her madness had its source with the French Pox. The doctors call it 'syphillis'. And, there is no cure." Jane looked away, smothering a small sob. "This is the wheel of fortune, Mrs. Awe. Edward's own son is afflicted." Jane rose to her feet. "It is time to see to the living. Thank you for bringing the children to see me. We must salvage their future. I see that they have an excellent mother. Your money did not spoil Caroline. Take them to the United States. Educate and nurture them far away from...excuse me, I think that I would like to walk with my grandchildren." Jane turned away, wiping away a tear.

A few minutes later, Celestine heard Jane say briskly, "Come children. Your uncle Crispin Rivers is done with his studies for the day. He also knows many delightful stories. We will have a wonderful supper on the veranda. You can tell us all about England."


End file.
